Gems of Chack
by CrystallicSky
Summary: A runthrough of Chack-prompts based on gems, jewels, and precious stones. CHACK, ONESHOT IN TWO PARTS
1. Chapter 1

**Gems of Chack  
**

**By: CrystallicSky**

**Disclaimer: I don't own Xiaolin Showdown or any of its characters, nor do I make any profit or attempt to with the writing of this or any of my other pieces.**

**Warnings: Language, sexual implications, slight gore, homosexuality, etc.**

**--  
**

**_Amber-_**

"Chase," Jack Spicer declared, "I am a motherfucking _genius."_

"In what way this time?" the everlord inquired, casually inspecting the unimpressive little machine his lover held.

"Okay, okay, okay, watch _this,"_ the goth encouraged. He set the machine down, pressed a button, and off the tiny thing was, zooming around the floor of the room like a remote-control car (which was essentially what it was).

Try as he might, Chase saw nothing special about _this_ and demanded, _"What_ is it that makes you a genius for this, again?"

"There's no battery in it," Jack triumphantly informed, "nor was it charged, and look, no plug! I have singlehandedly solved the energy crisis!"

The elder man blinked at the little device still coursing the floor, currently doing a tight figure-eight around his feet that showed that maneuverability had not been compromised with this new power source. "What _is_ powering it, then?" he queried.

"My mom's old broach!" Jack practically laughed in answer. "Isn't it awesome? I was watching this special on TV and it was talking about how amber gives off an electrical charge when it's rubbed, and that sparked off a chain reaction of thoughts in my head that led to this!"

"Isn't amber a fairly soft stone?" the everlord challenged. "Won't it wear down from constant rubbing?"

"Yeah," the genius conceded, "but it's pretty resilient despite its softness, so it's got awhile before that happens, and even when it does, it doesn't _matter_ 'cause even though amber is fossilized tree sap, it isn't a fossil _fuel!_ More can always be made!"

"And how do you figure that?" Chase countered. "It takes quite awhile for tree sap to fossilize, you know."

"Well, _duh,"_ the goth replied, "I know that; but with stuff like the Sands of Time at my disposal, I can just take sap from any current tree, bring it back in time, and then come back to the present to retrieve it once it's amber! It's the perfect solution, and it doesn't even hurt the environment to provide for its creation unless planting trees suddenly became a big detriment without my knowledge."

One eyebrow arched elegantly. "Just what is it you're trying to _do_ here, Spicer?" the warlord questioned. "It sounds quite a bit like you're attempting to do something beneficial for humankind; become their _savior."_

"Oh, _hell_ no," Jack denied immediately, a scowl on his face. "But think about it: the world'll be clean again and without pollution, which is something I've heard you bitching at me to fix for awhile, and then, of course, there's the aspect of control. The amber-supply in the rest of the world will have to run out sometime, and then _I_, being the only one who knows how to make it, will become the sole provider. I'll run a monopoly over electricity, and at that point, the whole world will pretty much be mine: after all, people nowadays just don't know how to _live_ without power, so if it keeps their TVs and computers and phones working right, they'll do _anything_ I say."

"Presenting them with a new miracle power source, allowing them to put all their eggs in one basket, and then handily take complete control of said basket…" Chase mused. "Mankind will be walking right into it!" A smirk crossed the man's lips and he tugged his young mad genius closer to him. "You _are_ learning how to harness that intellect of yours for Evil, after all; I heartily approve of your plan."

"Awesome," Jack grinned right back. "And I learned from the best."

**_Amethyst-_**

"No…nonono, m'not drunk…m'fine…."

"No. You are most certainly _not_ fine. You're obviously drunk. How much have you had?"

"Idunno…two…six…eight goblets? Why's it matter? M'not drunk…"

"It matters _a lot._ You _are_ drunk."

"No…y're bein' ridiculous. Goblet's made of ame…amy…amee…purple quartz."

"Amethyst?"

"Yeah, that…"

"I don't care _what_ you heard about drinking out of amethyst goblets. There's nothing magical about it, and the laws of science and biology are still in effect: you _are_ drunk."

"No…_m'not_ drunk, dammit. Gods, Spicer, y're more 'nnoying 'n I _thought_ you were," hazy golden eyes glared daggers at the albino trying to wrench the wine from his hands, "'n I thought you were pretty damn 'nnoying."

"Sticks and stones, Chase," the goth frowned, finally managing to get ahold of the goblet carved of amethyst. Were his lover sober, he'd have never had a chance at getting the cup away, but as it was, the man was stone-blind drunk; his reflexes slowed and his grip lax, making the task possible. "You're gonna thank me for this tomorrow, when your hangover isn't any _worse_ than it will be."

The scene made for a ridiculous one, the scrawny, albino tech-wizard dragging a completely gooned, Evil warlord through the hallways of his palace and the man protesting drunkenly all the way.

Eventually, to Jack's eternal relief, they reached the bedroom and Chase was, with some difficulty, tucked into bed.

"I'm gonna sleep in a guest room tonight," Jack informed. "I don't want to be anywhere _near_ you when you wake up with a pounding headache and the urge to puke; you'll probably want to grab onto the nearest living thing and kill it."

"Stay…" the man practically whined in pleading, groping clumsily at his lover's clothing. "Want you...hot, tight, perfect…_want…"_

"Not when you're _this_ drunk, babe," the albino snorted, amused. "You probably couldn't even get it up. Now," he pushed the dragonlord back to the bed, unlatching the hands from his clothes, "I've got you all set up in here: there's a trash can on both sides of the bed for when you need to throw up, some water bottles on the nightstand to rehydrate you, and a full, already-opened bottle of aspirin for the skull-splitter you're gonna get; that way you don't have to be messing with child-proof caps or foil coverings."

This time, Chase merely grunted in reply and let himself be tucked back in; his bleary, gold eyes slipping closed.

Jack smiled as he left the room, flicking off the light and silently closing the door. The man would _surely_ be an unholy terror in the morning, but for now, it was nice to be able to take care of him.

**_Crystal-_**

Chase couldn't help his grin as his lover pranced into the room and almost literally dive-bombed onto the bed.

"Happy new year, Chase!" Jack squealed excitedly as he did so, pressing a sweet and saccharine kiss to the man's cheek.

They were, of course, celebrating the Eastern new year as opposed to the Western new year, but it would've been superfluous for the goth to say, 'happy _Chinese_ new year' as they _lived_ in China.

"Happy new year to you, too, Spicer," the everlord smiled, making room for his consort to get settled on the bed beneath the covers.

"Now, I know we haven't done this before," Jack began, puzzling his overlord as he reached back behind the bed and removed a neatly-wrapped box, "and I don't expect you to give me anything in return since I didn't tell you about it, but…I got you a new year's present."

Chase accepted the small box with a blank expression of confusion. He was usually able to track his lover's actions so well and with so little effort, and yet he had known absolutely nothing about _this._

Either he was slipping or Jack was getting trickier, and the elder man knew immediately that his skills had not declined in the slightest.

Regardless, he took the box into his hands and carefully undid the wrapping so that he could lift the lid and see the gift that lie within.

Jack's hesitant expression of waiting immediately switched to one of elation as his beloved's golden eyes went wide with pure shock.

Chase gently took hold of the object in the box and removed it, exposing a crystal figurine to the light in the bedroom. The crystal was of high quality and shaped in a way that suggested it was not done cheaply nor _could_ it be done cheaply.

The figurine itself consisted of two figures: a dragon and a monkey. The dragon was of a similar build as the warlord's own reptilian form and the crystal that made it up was stained in his precise coloring that made it 100% certain that the resemblance was no accident. Clinging to the dragon with obvious, crystalline affection was a monkey; not stained any colors at all. There was _one_ spot of color upon the little animal, and that was its eyes: a blood-red color used to stain the crystal there.

"I thought it'd be something cool to give you," Jack said as his lover inspected his gift. "I mean, it's the new year, and our zodiacs _are_ the dragon and the monkey, so…well, anyways, I've got some relatives working at Swarovski, and I managed to get 'em to do a special design on request."

Chase grinned, carefully setting the beautiful figurine upon the bedside table before turning his attention to his beloved consort. "Thank you, Spicer," he said warmly. "I see for certain now why our signs are so compatible, you charming and sensual monkey."

Jack giggled, amused. "I could say the same of you, my moody and insensitive dragon."

"There's that teasing and playful nature," the warlord rumbled, pushing his mate onto his back and topping him easily. "Let's explore the intensely sexual side…"

"Sure thing, my dominant and authoritative dragonlord," Jack purred in response.

**_Diamond-_**

Jack was positive he hadn't meant it.

There was no _way_ such a thing could've been done on purpose; no, no, no, no… Clay Bailey was the _Good_ one, the only one (aside from perhaps Omi) who really cared about sticking to the rules of the Xiaolin and wouldn't do _anything_ like this of his own volition.

Jack was sure that killing Wuya had been an accident.

It had been scary; one of the scariest things the young goth had ever experienced in his life, and not because the only one on the Heylin side that'd ever seen fit to mentor him (however horribly she'd done it) was gone, but because it was very nearly _him._

He was in the last place he ever expected to be, at the moment: held tightly in the arms of Chase Young as he shook like an autumn leaf; not crying, but seriously considering it.

The two of them were still in precisely the same position they had stopped in at the abandoned coal mine where the Showdown had taken place. They were alone unless one counted the Heylin witch's corpse at the bottom of a nearby mineshaft.

The monks had fled several long minutes ago, the cowboy in mute horror of what he'd done. They had the Wu, of course, but Jack was much too stunned and shell-shocked to be too terribly bothered by that fact, and Chase didn't seem interested in anything but holding the albino youth. That, of course, only left Wuya to bitch about going after the monks and getting back the Wu, but she couldn't.

She was dead.

And it'd almost been _him_ that was knocked into that mineshaft to his death.

Jack whimpered and clung harder to his Evil hero, desperately holding back tears. He didn't want to cry, not in front of _Chase._

One big, gloved hand cupped the back of his skull, its twin moving to splay warmly upon his lower back. "Cry," the warlord said, the firm tone of it making it sound very much like an order.

The goth obeyed it without question and in seconds, he was sobbing piteously against his idol; tears staining the man's breastplate. Once he'd started, it was like he'd opened a floodgate and there was simply no _way_ he could stop the flow of saline from his eyes. He cried until his face was hot, he cried until his chest ached, he cried until his eyes were sore, and he cried until he most largely forgot what the hell it was he was crying about.

Chase simply held him.

Eventually, the tears slowed as they inevitably had to: _no one_ could cry forever. Bloodshot red eyes slipped closed, the excess of tears making them too gummy to reopen easily, and Jack's head fell forward against the chest of the everlord's armor with a dull 'clunk.'

The man listened as the youth's breathing began to even out and inquired, "Spicer?"

"…why me?" Jack wondered after a moment, voice hoarse from sobbing. "Why'd you save _me?"_

Chase quirked an eyebrow. "What do you mean by that?"

"Only one of us would've gotten knocked in there," the goth explained in a subdued tone. "You couldn't have carried _both_ of us away from there: maybe our combined weight, like if we were only one person, but _two_ full-grown people…it'd be too much bulk in too awkward a package to get us away quickly enough. You made a _choice."_

"I did," the warlord verified. "What's your point, Spicer?"

"You made a _choice,"_ Jack repeated. "You knew you could only save _one_ of us, and you picked _me."_

"Yes, I did," Chase easily confirmed.

_"Why?"_ the albino demanded, obviously in shock.

The man quietly pushed the young genius away from him ever so slightly. "Wuya," he explained, "is a bit like that shaft she fell into: not particularly useful on her own, but occasionally, useful things can come from her."

Red eyes blinked up at him in lack of understanding. "Like what, kids?" the goth inquired with a slight grimace. "I thought she was too old for that-oh, _please_ tell me she wasn't pregnant or something!"

Chase sighed in exasperation. _"No,"_ he firmly emphasized, "she wasn't. She was, as you said, much too old for pregnancy and even if she weren't, I would not allow her to bear me children. That is not what I meant, in any case."

"Then…what _did_ you mean?" Jack wondered.

"Wuya has this…particular talent for finding untapped skill; raw and unrefined potential in people that could easily lead them to greatness." Chase sneered. "She _also_ has a talent for _squandering_ that potential and driving it into the ground."

The everlord saw the subtle widening of the youth's eyes that meant the boy's genius-mind was beginning to piece things together.

He reached out to the ground beside him and picked up a fist-sized chunk of coal, raising it for the goth to see. _"You,_ Spicer," he informed, "are a bit like this piece of coal. You were introduced to the Heylin side through Wuya, but quite like the metaphor I'm using here, this coal is simply coal no matter _what_ the mineshaft does and should the mineshaft continue to possess the coal, it will never become anything better."

Jack watched with a wide-eyed gaze as his idol's supernaturally-strong grip tightened on the bit of coal, his fist emanating smoke and flame as he called upon his long-unused element of fire in his demonstration.

"In the proper hands, however," Chase explained, "the coal can become more; can be greater than anything it ever could have been stuck in the dark and dank mineshaft." He opened his fist and there, in his palm, sat a magnificent looking diamond, marred only by a bit of black dust which was deftly blown off.

The albino's wrist was caught, holding his palm skyward as the hardest and one of the most beautiful gemstones in the world was placed in his hand.

_"You,_ Spicer," Chase reiterated, "are like this piece of coal: you are unimpressive, now, little more than a resource, but with _potential._ Like this coal, you have also just changed hands."

Now, _that_ got Jack's attention. "What?" he dumbly inquired.

The dragonlord smirked, a smug and wicked thing. "To my eternal frustration, Wuya happened upon you first," he said. "In ordering you around and getting you involved in the Shen Gong Wu hunt, she made you her apprentice. The rules of the Heylin are very strict on such things: an apprentice cannot get a new master unless the former master dies or willingly gives up their apprentice. Even when she ceased to have any want of you, Wuya refused to revoke your apprenticeship under her."

"Why?" Jack wondered. "She left me totally on my own for awhile! How can that count as apprenticing?"

"Whether she was physically there or not, it doesn't matter: she had to verbally revoke her claim on you and pass you on to another master." A frown took the man's handsome face. "She refused to do so because she knew how badly it would frustrate me: _I_ wanted you."

The goth's genius-brain felt distinctly broken at that. "You _what?"_ he demanded.

"I am not an idiot, Spicer," Chase asserted. "I've seen your potential from the beginning. You have _promise,_ promise that I can help you achieve. Now that Wuya is dead and can make no claim upon you as a ghost…" he smirked again, "you are _mine."_

For a long while, Jack said nothing. Then… _"Awesome…"_

The warlord chuckled, dragging the albino to his feet. "I take it you've no protests to offer, then?"

_"Hell,_ no," Jack scowled, "I've only been waiting for this _forever!"_

Amused, Chase took hold of his new apprentice's chin and leaned forward. "Just so you know, Spicer," he purred, "there will be more to what I am teaching you than combat…"

There was no mistaking the look in golden eyes and the husky tone in the man's deep, robust voice: _lust._

Again, Jack was quiet for a moment, and then… _"Awesome,"_ he repeated.

Chase laughed. "Excellent, Spicer," he said, _"most_ excellent. Are you ready to return home, my apprentice?"

A brilliant smile took the albino's face. _"Hell,_ yeah, I am!"

The two men were then gone from the abandoned coal mine. The diamond remained behind upon the ground, far from the mineshaft that held the corpse of a spiteful Heylin witch.

**_Emerald-_**

For the first time in a matter of centuries, Chase Young had entered into a monogamous relationship.

What was important to remember about this little fact was that, in the time between his last exclusive lover and the current, he had _not_ been inactive. For a span of decades, the everlord had had access to any man or woman on the planet he so desired and had made use of it; often having three or four lovers at one time from which he could pick and choose as he pleased. Now…with only _one_ lover from which to choose…

Well, needless to say monogamy was proving quite _hard_ for the man and he was constantly bombarded by temptation.

Jack had been understanding of this fact from the start. He'd smiled sweetly and promised Chase that nothing he could do would make him leave, even if that was sleeping with another man or woman. He'd simply asked to be told about any slips in control the warlord had and whether or not they'd meant anything.

It had worked out alright, Chase supposed; for awhile, at least. Then the hurt and betrayal had begun to surface in the goth's red eyes, sadness hiding in his voice behind a mask of indifference.

It got to the point where _no_ amount of, 'He/she meant nothing's would help the albino youth disguise his disappointment in his lover, and Chase could not take it anymore.

He _hated_ that burning feel of guilt that welled up in him whenever the genius blinked back tears and lied that he didn't care about the little affairs, and besides that…

Chase feared that one day it would become too much for the ever-sensitive Jack and the youth truly _would_ leave him.

That, the everlord could not tolerate; not for anything.

He had at last decided to go cold turkey-monogamy: _only_ Spicer for him. It was a gruelingly brutal experience; to want sex from a variety of sources and to force himself into only one.

After about a month of attempting this, Chase knew for sure he would require help in keeping Spicer his _only_ supplier of sex.

He went to Spicer himself.

Jack had been immensely surprised to hear that the warlord was trying to be more loyal to him; immensely surprised and gleeful. That the man was making the effort seemed to be enough to make up for all the previous sexual indiscretions in the goth's mind (Chase _loved_ him! He really _didn't_ want any of those other people! He wouldn't do something like this for anyone _else's_ sake!), and he'd happily agreed to help.

About a week later, Jack had come to Chase bearing a gift he claimed would hopefully solve the problem: a necklace.

It was a simple necklace, one with a bronze chain that went well with the warlord's armor and a small, hand-carved heart of emerald.

Emerald, as Jack explained it, was a stone associated with Aphrodite. Supposedly, the goddess imbued it with the power to uncloud a wearer's mind; enabling them to think clearly of past, present, and future. This, it was said, protected lovers from unfaithfulness.

Of course, Chase didn't believe a word of it, then, but it'd been a lovely gift into which his gothic lover had put much effort and at that point, _anything_ had been worth a shot.

The everlord had gone about his life regularly for quite some time wearing the pendant before he eventually realized, to his shock, that _three months_ had gone by and he hadn't even _thought_ about sex with any other besides Jack.

Once he'd realized this, of course, he _did_ think about it, but each time, he decided against it.

He would see an attractive stranger or think about one, consider having sex with them, and then his hand would come to the emerald around his neck and he would remember how romantically unhappy he'd been before Spicer came into his life; how happy he truly was _now._ He would clearly see blood-red eyes wet with unshed tears, black-clad shoulders in a dejected slump, and a young voice cold and distant in betrayal, and he would _very_ clearly feel the sharp sting of fear that came with even so much as _thinking_ of the albino youth leaving him for good.

It had been a full year, now, since Chase had last shared a bed or truly _wanted_ to with someone other than his Jack, and he sat with the young man upon a loveseat in front of the television; snuggling in toasty cashmere blankets as the goth pressed affectionate kiss after affectionate kiss to his collarbone, declaring his unending love.

All the warlord could think of as he was tenderly assaulted by his grateful beloved's mouth was, 'thank you, Aphrodite…'

**_Hematite-_**

Lord Young was looking for a spouse.

Normally, in matters such as these, his mother and father would be the ones to decide who would become his bride and the lucky woman would be chosen from the many rich and distinguished families in the area.

However, the lord's parents happened to be deceased and so the choice was left up to him.

The word went out that the handsome and wealthy Chase Young was choosing his spouse via masquerade ball and that those of all genders and social backgrounds were welcome: the only requirement was that those attending must be within the ages of thirteen and thirty and that all must craft their own masks out of whatever they saw fit.

The night of the ball arrived, excitement and lust buzzing in the air, and Chase was unsurprised to find himself severely disappointed.

The men and women that had arrived to vie for his hand…they were all the same sort of shallow and annoying socialites he was exposed to on a daily basis, and he could hardly stand _them_ for the small portion of time he was forced to spend with them. To have to pick a partner with which to spend his _life_ with of them…

No. Simply…no.

To boot, he was not particularly wowed by any of the masks he saw his guests wearing. Some were made of pricey gemstones, others of velvet or silk; he had even seen a mask made of leaves and branches, but none particularly _struck_ him.

Chase sighed in annoyance as he drifted through the crowd of people, dancing so as to pass the time in revelry and _still_ nothing caught his eye! Ruby, gold, sapphire, emerald, ivory-

Oh…what was _that?_

The lord purposefully approached one party-goer who stood off to the side, head turned away. From what the man could see, this one in particular was male and perhaps only a few years older than the minimum age requirement and bore a full head of red hair the color of flame. He wore a mask of Chase-couldn't-tell-what, but it was dark and possessed a metallic sheen.

Needless to say, Lord Young was interested.

The stranger gasped aloud as a large, gloved hand took hold of his chin, forcing him to face the prince that was hosting the gala.

Up close, the young man appeared to be somewhere around fifteen or sixteen, as Chase had thought. His skin looked to be a deathly pale and had a good bone structure, making the stranger a handsome young lad without dispute.

His mask was more unique than any the lord had seen all night: it was silverish in color, but much too dark to be silver and shone pleasantly in the light of the ballroom. In it were carved many rune-like designs that were simply beautiful and nicely complemented the young man's red eyes; yes, Chase confirmed to himself in wonder, _red!_

"Your mask is lovely," he informed the stranger, "as are your eyes."

The prince smirked to see the edge of a pink blush work its way onto pale cheeks beneath the mask, and the youth replied with a simple, "Thank you…"

Chase idly traced a finger along the mask, finding it hard and unyielding beneath his touch. "What is it made of?" he inquired.

"Hematite," the stranger replied.

"And why did you make it of such?" the lord inquired, expecting to be told of the worth of the mineral or some other such greedy reason.

"Because I like the way it looks," the young man informed him.

Such an answer startled Chase, and he couldn't help but laugh. "That is the best answer I have received all night, stranger," he chuckled. "You have a much better chance of winning the throne beside mine than anyone else here, so far. What is your name?"

The redhead smiled coyly at him. "Why don't you _guess_ who I am?"

Golden eyes lit up at the prospect of a challenge. "Interesting," he hummed. "I will play your game. Are you of a poor family?"

"No," the youth denied. "I'm plenty wealthy."

"Then, why have I not seen your face before?" Chase wondered. _"Surely,_ I would remember someone as lovely as you."

The stranger smiled. "My parents are ashamed of me," he said, "because of my skin and my eyes. They don't really let me out of the castle; I never even had a coming-of-age celebration. Not that I _wanted_ one, but nonetheless."

"Ahah, so you dwell in a castle!" the prince declared, having caught the detail in the youth's sentence. "You would belong to a family in the upper-crust of the upper-crust, then."

"Yes," the young man admitted, red eyes twinkling behind his dark metallic mask, "I do."

"Have you any relatives attending the ball?" Chase wondered. There were only three or four people of families with such wealth as the redheaded boy was claiming, and to know if he was related to any of them would be a great help.

"My mother," he answered. "She is still married to my father, but she is under the impression that if she can catch your eye, you will annul her marriage for her."

There was only one woman of the three he had narrowed it down to that fit such a descrption, and with a note of surprise in his voice, Chase declared, "You are Sylvia Spicer's son."

The stranger grinned and took his host's gloved hand, pressing a kiss to the back of it as a gentleman would for a lady. "Jack Spicer, my lord, at your service."

The prince couldn't help but laugh at that, honestly amused. "I must congratulate you, Jack," he chuckled. "We've only been speaking for a very short time, and yet you've already managed to make me laugh _twice._ I've known men and women for upwards of a decade who failed to do as much even _once."_

"Happy to achieve the unachievable, Lord Young," Jack smiled.

"Please," the man said, "call me Chase."

Startled, red eyes blinked for a moment. "Chase," the youth said, testing the name on his tongue, "of course."

The prince took a single step closer to the Spicer boy, offering a charming grin and inviting, "Tell me, Jack, would you care to take a trip to my study with me? I could certainly do with getting to know you a bit better."

"But Lord Yo-er, Chase," the pale redhead protested, "the ball isn't over yet."

"I say it is," the man contradicted. "Besides," one hand slipped into the youth's, holding it in a firm, warm grip, "I believe I've found my spouse…"

Jack's face broke out into an elated grin and he allowed himself to be led from the ballroom as the other guests enjoyed the masquerade; entirely unaware of the fact that they'd all lost their chance at the throne.

**_Jasper-_**

"Why jasper?" the human wondered, a nervous edge to his voice. It was obvious he wasn't asking out of curiosity, but rather because he needed to be a bit distracted from what was about to happen.

Chase understood the need: had _he_ been the one lying with legs bound in a bath of herbs, about to be given a drastic species change, he would've liked to be distracted as well.

"Jasper protects against bites," he said, "specifically spider and _snake_ bites." He moved in closer to where the youth lay almost fully-immersed in the strong-smelling liquid, his dark-scaled tail flicking idly behind him as he draped the necklace of green jasper beads about a white throat. "Because you will require my venom for this spell to work, it would be best if you did not succumb to it before the transformation is complete."

Jack shivered at the mention of the 'transformation.' "I'm scared," he willingly admitted to the naga looming above him, "and I think this herb-crap is making me nauseous…"

"Would you like to back out?" the snake-man inquired. "It's not too late to do so."

The redheaded boy appeared to honestly consider it. In the end, however, it seemed his desire to be with the creature he'd fallen in love with was stronger than his fear of giving up his humanity, for he eventually said, "No…I still…I want to."

"Good," Chase smiled.

Red eyes watched as the naga dipped in closer, taking hold of Jack's arm. The reptile was thankful for the fact that the boy was albinistic, as the translucence of his white skin made finding the median antebrachial vein beneath much easier than it would be with someone darker-skinned. It had to be as far from the heart as possible: if the poison reached the youth's heart and lungs before the transformation was complete, it would all be for nothing. Hell, if Chase could get a good bite into any of the tiny-tiny veins in Jack's hand or fingers, he'd do it there! As it was, the wrist would have to do.

Jack grunted as the snake's fangs sunk into his flesh, pumping _just_ enough venom into his bloodstream to make the spell work. Considering the lethality of Chase's venom, it was still enough to kill him should it be allowed to.

The naga immediately began the incantation as the goth's skin began to prickle and break out into a cold sweat. Jack soon grew deaf to Chase's voice and could only focus on the sensations he was feeling: the internal heat burning in his lower half, the itch of his skin, and the _pain…!_

Jack screamed a bloodcurdling scream, hands latching on to the edge of the tub in which he was submerged and gripping until his already-white knuckles went whiter. Though his legs were bound tight with rope, they kicked and thrashed instinctively, sloshing the herbal bath violently.

Chase saw the youth's legs slowly fusing together; flesh melding and bones knitting into a flexible extension of his spine, growing longer with each passing second. He saw the goth's skin flush an irritated red before breaking out into scales; lovely, but patchy and uneven in covering in such a way that Jack would have to shed his skin quite soon after this finished should he want to move about on his own painlessly.

The naga did not pause in his enunciation of the incantation for a second despite the change and the screams: should he stop or falter, Jack would die.

Besides, he was nearly finished.

Jack's scream intensified to a glass-shattering shriek as the final words were spoken and his hips bucked unintentionally, sending his newly-grown tail into a flick that snapped through the air like the crack of a bullwhip.

Immediately, the youth slumped back into the bath of herbs like a puppet whose strings had been cut, all energy gone. His head fell back in limp exhaustion and his death grip upon the edges of the tub went completely lax.

Chase slithered closer as the albino panted for breath, slowly coming to an equilibrium in his new body. Jack's tail was long and slender, the elder naga noted, covered in iridescent white scales from the hips down; the new appendage was too big to fit in the tub with the rest of the boy and so a good five or six feet of it hung out over the edge to brush against the ground.

"Congratulations, Spicer," he purred, causing the goth to tiredly pick his head up with some effort, "you survived."

Red eyes drifted to the tail where his human legs had once been, and inside his mouth, his tongue brushed against a new set of fangs that were surely dripping with venomous poison. He knew, deep down, that he should be really, _really_ freaked out about all this, but…

He wasn't.

It was what he had asked Chase to do for him, and besides that, he was too _tired_ to be freaked out. The change felt natural enough, anyways.

Natural-feeling as it was, Jack was still unused to manipulating his new body and so his first attempt to extract himself from the tub of herbal water resulted in his tail folding awkwardly in on itself as his arms weakly attempted to push his body up.

Needless to say, it failed, and he fell back into the bath with a splash and a grunt of embarrassment.

Strong arms scooped him up before he could try again on his own or protest. "Don't worry about it," Chase dismissed, easily plucking the albino from the tub. "Your tail is new: you cannot be expected to know how to use it so soon. I will teach you how to slither and manipulate it as you like at a later date."

"Why not now?" Jack wondered, yawning and resting his head against a broad, masculine chest.

The elder naga merely chuckled. "You've answered your own question, Spicer," he said. "You are tired: rest."

The redheaded youth willingly complied, slipping into a dreamless slumber as the snake-man carried him yet deeper into the jungle, where no human would ever find him.

**_Malachite-_**

Jack Spicer's lung had been punctured in a recent Showdown when Katnappé had tripped the boy down a museum's staircase.

No one had noticed or cared at the time when they saw the goth settled at the bottom of the stairs, taking his convulsing movements to mean simply that he was alive and of little consequence.

It was only by miracle of having so many of his robots on hand at all times that he was able to be moved back to his mansion quickly and safely where his self-designed Medbots were capable of handling delicate and time-sensitive procedures such as the one he required, and so he survived, albeit weak and in need of being hooked up to a machine that disabled the function of his punctured lung while providing itself as a temporary replacement.

After all, the internal stitching would not remain in place if the delicate flesh was expanding and contracting with breath all the time.

Jack had been frantic and panicked upon waking for the first time after surgery, feeling lopsided as he breathed and knowing nothing of what was going on. He had been so hysterical, in fact, that his bots had necessity of sedating him to keep him from disconnecting himself from the machine that was helping him breathe and keeping the stitches upon his lung from tearing and had refused to allow him to awaken again until he was properly healed.

No one had visited, Chase thought to himself, offended on his consort's behalf; no one but _him,_ of course.

He hated to see Spicer like this, and not simply because it meant he was out a lover for quite some time (though he wasn't fond of that, either). It sincerely bothered him that, had _one_ tiny thing gone wrong, Jack would be very much _dead_ right now, and all because the goth yet insisted upon attending Showdowns!

Well, the dragonlord firmly decided, not anymore. This little incident would provide irrefutable evidence for the stubborn albino as to just _why_ he would not be competing in any more battles for Shen Gong Wu until he had learned some sort of self-defense (or at the very least, how to balance himself properly so as not to be _able_ to be tripped down a flight of stairs).

For the meantime…

Jack was entirely unconscious, his white skin yet _more_ pallid as a machine did 50% of his breathing for him while the stitches upon his lungs slowly healed.

Chase sighed and removed the gift he'd brought his heavily-sedated lover from his pocket: a polished piece of malachite. It was said that malachite had the power to aid in the regeneration of the body and could create a calm and peaceful atmosphere in which one could sleep.

If there was anything Spicer needed now, it was sleep and healing.

A gloved hand placed the small present upon the goth's slim and hairless chest, providing a stark contrast between the white of the albino's flesh and the deep greens and blacks of the banded stone.

"Heal well, Spicer," he said, pressing an affectionate kiss to the youth's lax mouth. "Time is no factor: I've all the time in the world to wait for you."

**_Moonstone-_**

Emperor Young had just had what was perhaps the hardest day of his entire life.

China was experiencing so many problems at the moment; socially, financially, and politically, it was in a state of turmoil. Civilians threatening revolt, an economic crisis, war on the horizon…

It was nothing short of a nightmare, really.

Chase was, in actuality, a very good emperor: were he anyone else, China very well might have _dissolved_ by now into sheer chaos and disorder. Even as good a ruler as he was, however, he simply _could not_ fix everything.

He was doing the best job he was able and getting immeasurable flack for it to the extent that he was forced into this: retreating to his bedchambers in the middle of the day to find solace from the only source he could.

A small white stone sat in his palm, one easily identified by its adularescence as moonstone. It was round in shape, almost a complete sphere but still closer to an oval-shape than anything.

Chase had found this small stone when he was but a child in the palace gardens, and from that moment on, it had been his closest companion.

It was renowned as a lucky stone, so he'd immediately taken it, hoping to inherit some of the luck in his studies.

Oddly enough, it had actually _worked._ From the moment he found and took the small bit of moonstone for his own, he had excelled tenfold in everything that he did: he was able to focus deeper on his literary and mathematical studies, his skill in physical combat had skyrocketed, and he'd even acquired this incredibly handy ability to charm the pants off any adult (quite a useful thing if he ever wanted to get out of punishment).

It was enough that his parents noticed and asked how he'd come by this sudden burst of skill.

Of course, being the honest child he was, he told them of the little stone he'd found and how it _must_ have been the cause of his good fortune.

"Oh," his mother had cooed, taking it from his outstretched palm, "a moonstone! These are very lucky, you know." Chase had nodded and she'd continued, "What a fortunate thing to find, little one! These are said to relieve anxiety and bring down fevers; I've even heard it told that they protect travelers from harm!"

She was humoring the future-emperor with myths and legends about the stone, of course, not truly believing any of them, but Chase had believed her.

The empress had then turned to her husband, a grin on her face and love in her eyes. "Your father gifted me with one of these stones on our wedding night," she'd spoken, still addressing her child though her eyes were not on him. "The spirit inside it inspires love and passion."

"Spirit?" the young boy had wondered curiously.

"Oh, of course," his mother had explained, holding the stone out to her son so he could see. "Do you see that blue light that shines on it?" Chase did and nodded, staring at the blue shimmer with an expression of utmost seriousness. The woman's slender hand tilted the stone slowly left and right, allowing the light to bounce off it and move the shimmer across its surface. "That is the spirit," she told her child, "and that is it moving inside of the stone."

The young Chase was awed, as any child would be at the thought of a spirit living inside of their very own luck-charm, and he'd taken the moonstone back, cradling it gently in his small hands.

"Take care of that stone, my son," his father advised. "When you are older, you, too, can give it to your wife as a gift."

The boy frowned, his nose wrinkling. "Girls are awful," he'd immediately declared. "I don't _want_ to marry."

The then-emperor had merely chuckled at his son's aversion to the female persuasion: he and every other boy in the world had gone through it at least once. "Very well, then," he'd laughingly conceded, "you don't _have_ to marry; you can simply let that stone-spirit be your wife!"

Chase had taken it all to heart, and later that night, he had attempted to coax the spirit out of the stone.

He hadn't been sure _what_ he'd been expecting, but it certainly hadn't been for a transparent image of a boy, a few years younger than himself, to appear above the moonstone, smiling at him!

An interesting conversation ensued.

"Wh…what are you?" Chase had cautiously inquired.

"The spirit of the stone," the boy answered, as if to say it was obvious. "You…_did_ call me out…didn't you?"

"I did," the future emperor admitted. "I guess…I just wasn't expecting you to actually _do_ it."

"I'm sorry," the spirit apologized, eyes of red sheepishly downcast. "Do you want me to…go away?"

"No!" Chase exclaimed. "No, I just…no, you can stay."

The spirit smiled. "Thank you," it said. "My name is Jack."

"I'm-"

"Chase," Jack interrupted, "I know. I've been with you for awhile."

That reminded the emperor-to-be and he wondered, "Why have you been helping me?"

"I like you," the spirit admitted. "I want you to be happy, so…I've been helping you. I could stop if you wanted me to."

"You don't have to," Chase allowed, not wanting to seem selfish in front of his new friend by saying he _wanted_ to keep the luck he'd been given. "My dad said I should take good care of you. How'm I supposed to do that?"

"There's not much to do," Jack had promised. "Just be gentle with me. I'm not as hard as a lot of other stones, so I scratch easily." When the boy nodded, he added, "And if you can, polish me every so often so I don't get dirty. That's about it. Why do you _want_ to take care of me?" he'd inquired.

"Because you're going to be my wife, someday," the future emperor haughtily declared. "I want to be a good husband."

The moonstone spirit had grinned at him. "Okay," he allowed, "and I'll be a good wife by helping you in everything you do!"

The years had passed and when the time came for Chase to assume the throne, he refused to be married. He allowed no female suitors even remotely _near_ him and had the palace harem, still filled with women of his father's choosing, entirely emptied and did not refill it.

Instead, he had the little bit of moonstone set in a lovely and intricate wedding band that he wore always upon his finger, claiming it to be a symbol of his dedication to country: his focus was solely on China; he needed no wife!

But _he_ knew it was because he was _already_ married, and his wife would not appreciate a woman in his life.

Chase needed no women.

He sat alone, now, in his bedchambers, the white and blue-glimmering stone removed from his ring and cradled lovingly in his palms; the very way he'd held it on the day he found it as he played in the palace gardens.

A transparent, white shape materialized before him, becoming a lean young man with red hair and eyes.

Pale arms wrapped around the emperor, holding him with the sort of deep affection that could only come from love. "I'm doing the best I can for you," Jack promised his husband. "Things will get better."

"I know," Chase assured, returning the spirit's embrace. "I trust you. I just…need you right now."

Jack gave his beloved a tender smile, warm and sweet as he pressed the man back to the bed, joining him momentarily. "I'm here," he said. "I'm here for you, Chase."

Chase relaxed and let his moonstone do its job, relieving his anxiety with a well-deserved session of cuddling.

The emperor was sure tomorrow would be better.

**_Opal-_**

Jack purred in pleasure as he was thoroughly petted and stroked by his dark sex-god.

The albinistic goth with asocial and sociopathic tendencies had grown up largely an outcast and very infrequently had contact with others (especially after he was pulled out of school for that chalk-incident). Naturally, he _loooooved_ attention and from any source.

To begin receiving it in abundance from his idol and Evil hero the very moment he reached a legal age was a _wonderful_ development in his life. Chase _didn't_ actually hate him; he was just frustrated with himself for wanting Jack when he was underaged!

This explained to him, the goth had brightly informed the warlord that he was a perfectly-legal piece of ass, now, and oh, you want me as your sex-minion? Rut away!

Thankfully, the man had done so, and Jack Spicer was now the proud pet and consort of Chase Young, most Evil man to ever live and still continue to.

The albino lie languidly in his master's lap at the current moment, _mostly_ human-formed. He had questioned the merits of Chase using his magic to turn him into a feline minion like all his other minions, but scratches at the base of the tail and _just_ behind the ear were practically orgasmic, _totally_ worth the change.

Besides, _no one_ could say he didn't make one _dashing_ snow leopard when fully-formed.

As he was, he only had the ears, tail, and claws at the moment: he had just pleasured his master, and Chase was not into bestiality, after all (though Jack had lately wondered what it might be like for them to do it when they were _both_ animal-formed; likely interesting).

"Oh, Spicer," the warlord began, scratching a pleasant line down the middle of the goth's back as he raked greedy, golden eyes over white-white flesh marred only by marks made with _his_ mouth and nails, "your skin is as though pure white snow flashed and sparkled with the color of bright ruddy wine…I am overcome by your radiance."

"Pfft," Jack snorted, "what are you quoting?"

"A description of the opal in the crown of the Holy Roman Emperor," Chase replied with a smirk. "Orphanus, it was called."

"Opal…" the goth hummed. "Isn't opal supposed to release inhibitions and intensify or stabilize emotions?"

"Indeed, it is, my consort," the everlord confirmed, pleased. "It is also associated with desire and eroticism; love and passion."

Jack visibly shivered as Chase's strong fingers drifted to scratch pleasantly at the base of his tail, _just_ as he liked it. "Mmmm, wax more poetic about me, master," he coaxed. "You're pretty good at flattery."

Chase simply chuckled at that. "I don't believe I should," he said. "Your ego is already massive; I can't imagine what would happen to it should I quote ancient literature and poetry to you on a daily basis."

Jack snickered. "Yeah, I'll give you that one," he conceded. "But keep scratching there: it feels _soooo_ good…"

"That much, I can do, my pet," the warlord allowed with a sharp grin.

--

**A/N: All I've got to say about this one is that ****_Hematite _was for Silvarbelle and these excerpts prompted ****_Crystal_:**

**_ Monkeys, of all the other signs, are the most promiscuous. They are flirtatious and like to seek the attention of others to get what they want. They are easily bored and must be stimulated intellectually as well as physically in order to stay around for extended periods of time. The Monkey can be clever, mischievous and manipulative when pursuing a love interest. Monkeys are intense, sensual lovers. They can tease or charm anyone in a matter of seconds. They enjoy entertaining their lovers with their senses of humor and their ability to captivate a crowd. When the Monkey decides on a mate, it is likely to be forever._**

**_--_**

**_Dragons are quick to fall in love, but do not surrender their independence easily leaving most of them to live life by themselves. Yet, an smart, witty, and funny companion may intrigue the Dragon long enough to make him want to get married. And once the Dragon becomes committed, he is unlikely to ever leave. Negatively, Dragons are egotistical and love to be the center of attention. Modesty is not one of his assets. Add to that the Dragon temper and you have a bossy, dominating and authoritative being. They hate solicited advice and can be hopelessly tactless and insensitive to their lovers._**

**_--_**

**_PARTNERS IN LOVE_**

**_Dragon*Monkey_**

**_You share opinions and goals that destine you for happiness._**

**_Monkey*Dragon_**

**_You share similar points of view and a common understanding._**

**On a completely unrelated note, this is the very first prompt-fic I've ever done that's been SO long I've had to split it up into two pieces. I'm not sure whether that's a good thing or a bad thing.**


	2. Chapter 2

**Gems of Chack  
**

**By: CrystallicSky**

**Disclaimer: I don't own Xiaolin Showdown or any of its characters, nor do I make any profit or attempt to with the writing of this or any of my other pieces.**

Warnings: Language, sexual implications, slight gore, homosexuality, etc.

**--  
**

**_Pearl-_**

Jack happily snuzzled himself against his lover, reveling in the peaceful calm to be found at that particular second. His pink-fleshed tail twitched every now and again, a base dolphin desire to go swim and play and maybe kill something just for the hell of it, but it was deftly ignored it in favor of enjoying this tender moment.

The apex predator held him in a snug embrace, wordlessly nuzzling himself against the firm white column of the much younger mer's throat.

The albino dolphin was acutely aware of the rows of razor-sharp teeth filling the megalodon's maw; of the fact that Chase could open his mouth and chomp down in a second, snapping his neck and slicing his skin to pieces.

It was a source of glee to the youth that such a thing would not happen: the shark valued him too much for something like that.

"Mmm," he found himself sighing in pleasure, hands idly running the length of his lover's back, "I love you, Chase…"

Chase did not return the sentiment verbally (as he was not wont to do), but he nuzzled more firmly at the dolphin's neck, humming low in his throat as he did so.

It was a lazy, affectionate moment between lovers and one that neither would trade for the world.

"Chase…" Jack began. "Don't leave me…just…don't."

The shark paused in his nuzzling and glanced up at the white mer. "Do you mean that?" he sternly inquired. "Would you want me to stay with you, even if that meant forever?"

Red eyes blinked at him in confusion, but the albino invariably answered, "Yeah…definitely. I _love_ you, Chase, and not fake-teen love, either; _love_-love: I'd seriously murder you if you ever said you wanted somebody else. I've got it all planned out, right down to where I'd hide your body, and that's not easy for something as big as you are."

Chase snorted, but sat up, pulling his lover with him. "Then promise me," he said. "Promise me you want forever and I can give it to you."

"I promise," Jack answered without hesitation. "I'd love forever if it's with you."

Seeing nothing but honesty in the dolphin's eyes, the shark flashed a sharp, toothy grin. "Good," he answered the promise. "In that case, I have something very special for you."

Jack watched as his beloved felt beneath their bed of kelp for a moment and removed a mollusk he'd been hiding there.

"A pearl oyster?" he quietly wondered. The shark was giving him a pearl?

Without a word, Chase deftly pried open the oyster, revealing his gift.

Jack gasped in shock despite himself. "Holy crap…" he murmured at the sight of the dark and shimmering object within. "That's a…a…"

"A black Tahitian pearl," the megalodon purred, a proud smirk upon his handsome face.

"And it's _huge!"_ the albino exclaimed. The thing had to be _twice_ the size of any pearl he'd ever _seen!_ And besides that… "We're nowhere _near_ Tahiti…you must've swum a long way to get this…"

Chase then removed the black pearl from the oyster, showing it was attached to a thick metal chain which was then fastened about a slender white neck. "I did," he answered the youth's assumption, _"and_ I spent a particularly long time looking for a black pearl, knowing it to be your favorite color, _and_ even more time finding one of such an impressive size and flawlessness."

"Why?" Jack questioned, his fingers coming up to touch the perfectly round stone that now rested in precisely the middle of his chest.

"I wanted something sufficiently romantic and breathtaking with which to seduce you into accepting a proposal of marriage," the elder male answered.

Red eyes went wide. "What?" he inquired. _"Really?"_

"Yes, really," Chase scoffed, "but it seems a proposal was unnecessary; you practically engaged us yourself."

The dolphin remembered his beloved's talk of 'forever' moments ago and it suddenly hit him that the shark was one-hundred-percent _serious_ about it.

"Do you regret it?" the apex predator coldly demanded at the look of uncertainty that flitted across the youth's face.

"No!" Jack immediate denied. "No, no, no! I just…you're immortal, Chase…I'm not…how are we gonna actually make this 'forever' instead of 'until I die'?"

The scowl eased from the shark's face and he pulled his lover back to him for a reassuring embrace. "Architeuthis Bean gave _me_ eternal youth," he said after a moment. "I am certain he can give it to you, albeit for a price. It all depends, of course, on what you are willing to give up to him."

The dolphin grinned despite the serious nature of the conversation and affectionately brushed his cheek against the megalodon's neck. "Anything," the youth promised. "I'd give up anything for you..._except_ you, of course," he hastily added.

Chase smiled, as well, honestly pleased with the answer. "Then, I suppose we shall find a way."

**_Peridot-_**

Lord Spicer frowned to see the newest addition to his harem still stiff and rigid at his feet and completely unresponsive to his affectionate stroking of thick, black hair.

"What's wrong, my Egyptian pet?" he sternly demanded, removing his finger's from the silky mane. "Aren't you happy? I went to a lot of trouble to bring you here, you know."

"Happy!" Chase snapped in disbelief, whirling to face the young man that sat in his throne behind him. He'd have killed the twerp by now, but he knew that the guards stationed everywhere would _immediately_ overwhelm and kill _him_, and he had no intention of dying just yet; not here, in this foreign land far from anything he called home. "How can I be _happy_ when you have me locked up here?!"

The white youth's frown deepened. "You should be grateful for all I've given you," he said. "You're a _very_ privileged guest."

"I am a _prisoner_ here," Chase snarled back, indignant anger in his voice. "How can you call me a _guest_ when I am nothing but an entrapped _whore?!_"

Jack Spicer was out of his throne and on his feet, and before the man had even known what hit him, one white hand struck _hard_ across Chase's cheek.

"You brazen _bitch!"_ the lord growled imperiously. "You dark-skinned _bastard!_ Don't you realize all I've done for you?! I _saved_ you! You were poor and hapless in your land; _destitute!_ You were weeks away from whoring yourself for food and a place to sleep at night; you _told_ me as much, yourself!"

"That doesn't give you the right to _kidnap_ me!" the older man retorted, not at all deterred by the harsh slap despite the stinging of his cheek. "You've taken me from my country; my _home_: I would rather _die_ than be your filthy _slut!"_

Red eyes _burned_ with offended rage. "How _dare_ you assume you know what you're here for," Jack growled out. "You have no _idea_ how lucky you are to be here right now. I _choose_ to waste _my_ money and resources to bring you here _all the way from Egypt,_ put a roof over your head, food in your belly, give you a warm place to sleep at night, and all so you can sit on that pillow and look _pretty!_ I have no intention of fucking you," he coldly stated, ignoring Chase's surprised look. "That'd be rape since you obviously have no interest in me and I'm no rapist."

Jack snorted abruptly. "Fine," he conceded, "you know what? I don't even care anymore. Guards!" Immediately, two men stood at attention before the throne. "Escort the ungrateful bastard back to his chambers; he obviously doesn't want to be here."

Chase let himself be dragged out, throwing one last sneer in the lord's direction before he was forcefully escorted from the throne room.

The Egyptian man had stayed away from Lord Spicer for three days of his own volition, preferring to hole up in his quarters and not see _anyone._ After those three days, he'd grown very much bored, and though he hated to admit it, the white-skinned young man was good company and an excellent conversationalist.

Imagine his surprise to find he was _banned_ from the throne room _and_ the lord's private quarters, and was turned away by at least four burly guards whenever he tried to gain entrance!

At first he had snorted to himself, thinking it silly that a grown man would be having a petty little tantrum and refusing to see him. And then the days had begun to pass, turning into weeks, and finally becoming a full _month_ and _still_ he was turned away!

Chase was far more than annoyed at that point, but there was really nothing he could do about it.

And then the necklace had come for him.

It was a torque of _astounding_ quality, crafted of the finest Egyptian gold and studded along most of the collar with highly-polished peridot, the national gemstone of his country. The 'evening emeralds' could not circle the entire thing for the shape and style of the necklace, which was open in the back and crossed over the chest in the front to rest comfortably upon his collar bone in the form of wing-tips, making it appear almost as if he was being held from behind by Ma'at, the goddess of truth.

It was a lovely piece of jewelry that had _certainly_ cost a fortune; not the type of gift one casually gives to a whore.

Chase had steeled himself to once more attempt a visit to the lord of the manor, and this time, once the guards at the door had seen the necklace, he was finally, _finally_ allowed entrance.

He found the young man almost immediately, his silhouette clearly outlined by the red-stained sky of dusk as he stood at his balcony overlooking a tranquil lake and forest.

The Egyptian man silently joined him, staring at the scene, as well. He found the sight of a deer lapping at the water in the lake amazingly peaceful, somehow, though he'd never before seen a deer in his life.

"You're wearing it," Jack declared quietly, not taking his eyes off the scenery below.

"Yes," Chase confirmed in the same, soft tone. "It is beautiful. Thank you."

The lord scoffed. "It isn't too much like a _collar?"_ he coldly demanded. "It isn't too much a mark of subservience for you?"

The older man winced at the harsh accusations and for the first time since he was banned from the red-eyed youth's presence, the thought came that maybe it _wasn't_ Jack throwing a tantrum over a minor insult; perhaps it was genuine _hurt._

"No," he denied, actually feeling a bit guilty for his thanklessness. "It is…a very kind gesture. I appreciate it."

Jack merely 'hmph'ed, and left it at that, still refusing to look at his current companion.

Chase frowned. "You needn't be so cold to me," he said. "I have thought about all that you've given me and I realize you're right: I _do_ have much to be thankful for. I apologize for being so…ungrateful."

"Do you?" the young lord accused. "Do you really? I don't see why you would. No one is _ever_ sorry; not to me. No matter what anyone says or does to me, they're _never_ sorry for it. In the eyes of the world, it's perfectly alright to trample me with harsh words and deeds for the simple fact that I'm not normal; was born _wrong_."

Golden eyes widened at that. _"Wrong?"_ he echoed.

"Look at me!" Jack snorted with a bark of laughter. "I'm a demon; a _freak!_ No others have skin as white as mine, eyes as red as mine. All I am is a monster to be ignored, hated, and stepped on. Even all the wealth in the _world_ can't change that."

This spontaneous rant certainly confirmed it for the Egyptian man: his harsh words had cut the lord, and _deep,_ reopening a wound that'd obviously been opened many, many times already. "You're not a monster," he firmly denied. "Nor a freak, _or_ a demon."

"And how would _you_ know that?" his companion demanded. "You're just like all the others…"

"I know because monsters and demons and freaks aren't beautiful."

The lord's form became tense. "…what?"

"You are beautiful," Chase repeated, taking the time to better inspect the young man."Your skin is so perfect; flawless in its whiteness. It is as pale as the feathers of an ibis, in fact, which only reflects your intelligence, _another_ thing about you that is beautiful. And your eyes…" he moved closer to the younger man, cupping one supple cheek in his large hand. "I have never seen eyes like yours before. I must admit they fascinate me."

Lord Spicer looked _far_ younger than he was at that moment, _insecure,_ Chase realized.

Gently, he turned the albino away from the balcony and coaxed him towards the bed.

"Come, my lord," he persuaded. "Allow me to show you just how beautiful you are…"

Jack allowed it with no protest and soon found himself pinned beneath a drop-dead gorgeous Egyptian man, golden eyes smoldering at him in lust.

"I…take it you're no longer opposed to having sex with me…?" he weakly questioned.

Chase smirked back at him. "Certainly not," he assured and dipped down for a deep, hot kiss.

**_Pyrite-_**

Chase scoffed upon catching sight of the collection of metallic rocks upon his consort's dresser.

"Why do you keep those things, Spicer?" he demanded.

Jack simply shrugged. "That's not all of them," he said, "I've got more back at the mansion and some in the closet here."

"But, why would you bother?" the warlord snorted. "If it was a precious metal, like gold, then perhaps I could understand your fascination with it, but you _don't_ collect gold. Instead, you collect pyrite: _fool's_ gold. At least tell me you know the _difference."_

"Of course, I know the difference!" the goth asserted with a frown. "Did you ever think I like pyrite _better?"_

Chase blinked, startled by the sudden bitterness in the youth's tone. He stepped closer, joining his lover on his bed. "Why do you prefer pyrite?" he inquired.

"It just…I dunno," he scowled, "I guess I just feel like it…_speaks_ to me. I mean…they call it fool's gold and everything, and nobody thinks it's worth much, but…it's just as shiny and nice to look at as gold is. It's harder than gold is, too," the goth pointed out, "so it can't be damaged as easily and it's lighter, so it's easier to pick up and way more convenient…but nobody cares about that. People see gold and think, 'Oh, how beautiful, I want _that,'_ without even giving the pyrite a second glance; not even bothering to consider how much harder the pyrite had to work to get where it was or how much pain it had to go through before it finally figured out how to make itself hard so the insults wouldn't hurt as much…"

Many things could be said of Chase Young, but not one of them was that he was a stupid man: he knew immediately that Jack was no longer speaking about gold and fool's gold.

He forced his lover to look at him, locking red eyes with glimmering gold. "Spicer," he said seriously, "it doesn't matter what others think. Gold will always look at pyrite and see a kindred spirit; _beauty."_

Jack, eyes just a bit wet, smiled and hugged the Evil everlord affectionately. "That's all pyrite needs to know, then."

**_Rose Quartz-_**

"Once upon a time, in a far away land, there was a princess. She was a smart girl and very pretty, even though a lot of people didn't think so.

Most people thought that she was too pale to be beautiful, and her eyes too strange a color to be pretty, but she had a good face and pretty features, so even though not everybody liked her coloring, she grew up to be a lovely young woman.

Soon enough, it came time for the princess to pick a husband, someone to rule her kingdom with her-"

"Her _Evil_ kingdom, right, mother?"

"Well, that goes without saying, doesn't it? Anyways, the time came for that to happen. The princess didn't want to be married to someone that didn't love her or would usurp her throne and make her kingdom Good, so she used her intelligence to come up with a plan to keep that from happening.

She set up a room in which there was nothing but a pedestal in the center, atop which was a pink stone; a fist-sized piece of rose quartz carved in the shape of a heart. She addressed her suitors and told them that if they wanted to marry her, they would have to enter the room, one by one, and describe what they saw to her.

The princess, being in charge of a lot of land and money and by no means ugly, was highly desired by men from all over, and so many men attempted this task.

Hundreds of men tried and failed: they would enter the room, see the stone, and then return to the princess and describe it. Some called it a stone, others a heart, and others yet rose quartz; some even called it all three.

The princess accepted none of these answers, and the suitors that answered incorrectly were killed on the spot.

Eventually, there were no suitors left to try, and the princess was sad, having wanted to find her love and marry.

She resigned herself to life as an unmarried woman and continued to rule her kingdom with a level head and an iron fist until one day, a brave knight appeared. He-"

"Mother? Could…could the brave knight be…a woman?"

"…oh…Oh! Um…no, yeah, that's fine. I didn't know you…no, yeah, the knight can be a woman. Sure. So, the brave knight arrived at the princess's kingdom and declared that she would like to try for the princess's hand.

The princess told the knight of the challenge and the dangers in failing, and the knight said she was willing to take the risk.

Impressed, the princess allowed her entrance to the room where the stone sat, and when she emerged, the princess asked her what she had seen inside.

The knight looked up at the young woman in her throne and said, 'I saw the beautiful eyes of my princess and the love I have for her.'

The princess was touched by the statement and, soon enough, the knight and the princess were married and lived Evilly ever after."

Jack sighed as he finished the story and looked at his young daughter already tucked into bed; her white hair pulled into a ponytail and her intelligent pink eyes staring at him. "Does that make you feel any better, sweetie?" he inquired.

"Do you mean, 'do you understand my subliminal message,' mother?" Zhu inquired, an amused note in her voice. "But…yes, I think I do. You mean to tell me that my albinism won't matter once I find a woman that loves me for _me,_ and not simply what I look like, yes?"

The redheaded man smiled. "That'd be the gist of it," he confirmed for the seven-year-old.

Abruptly, a shrill, wailing cry rang out from across the hall and Jack automatically perked, his paternal instincts kicking in at the sound of an upset toddler. "That'd be Lucian," he unnecessarily noted before leaning in to kiss his daughter affectionately on the forehead. "I gotta go see what's up, sweetheart; g'nite!"

Zhu smiled at the little smooch and offered a, "Good night," in return as her albino father left the room to tend to her baby brother.

Chase Young watched, too, but from the shadows as the goth he had taken as his mate and lover dutifully went to soothe whatever nightmare their two-year-old son was having after having talked their daughter through her insecurities.

_Not bad, Spicer,_ he thought to himself, feeling proud of the young man, _not bad, at all._

**_Sapphire-_**

"What'd you get me? What'd you get me? What'd you get me?" Jack asked in rapid fire, practically bouncing as his lover forcefully sat him down on their bed.

Chase merely chuckled in amusement. "This is the point where most would be saying, 'No, no, you didn't have to do anything, _really'_…"

"I'm not most people," the goth reminded, quirking an eyebrow. "Now c'mooooon, what'd you _get me?"_

Hearing the desperate whine in the albino's voice, the everlord decided he had best give the youth his gift before he pissed himself in sheer excitement and deftly plucked a golf-ball-sized stone from his pocket, presenting it to his lover.

Jack inhaled sharply. "Holy _hell,"_ he gaped, "is that the friggin' _Star of India?"_

"It is," Chase proudly grinned, placing the famed star sapphire into white palms that held it carefully. "The forty-fifth anniversary _is_ the sapphire anniversary, after all, and I thought you'd be able to appreciate it."

"Why, 'cause I'm distantly related to and named after the guy who tried to steal it?"

Golden eyes blinked. "You're related to Jack Murphy?"

"Murph the Surf? Yeah," Jack nodded, "but y'know, like I said…_distantly._ Is that why, though?"

"No," the warlord denied. "I was unaware of that until now, though that _is_ a fantastic coincidence. I thought you'd be able to appreciate this sapphire in particular because is the best and the biggest sapphire in the world: you have _never_ been one to settle for any less than the best and the biggest things in life."

"I'll say," the goth answered after a moment, looking his lover up and down with obvious lust. _"You're_ the best at pretty much everything and it's _really_ hard to see how anybody could be _bigger_ than you…"

Chase smirked wickedly, nudging the youth back to the bed. "Is that an invitation for sex, Spicer?"

Jack smirked up at him. "We've been with each other for forty-five years today: if you can't tell what an invitation to fuck is, then we've got a problem…"

**_Tiger's Eye-_**

"You never cease to amaze me, Spicer," Chase hummed, a note of intrigue in his voice. _"How_ long did you say you've been using this technique?"

"At least five or six years," the goth shrugged, turning back to his desk and sketching a blueprint for his latest machine.

A golden gaze eyed the belt slung low about his lover's hips. "Explain your reasoning for this again," the man ordered.

"I already explained it," Jack protested, not looking up from his work.

"I enjoy hearing it," Chase asserted.

The albino sighed in exasperation. "The gold in the tiger's eye represents the ability to manifest, and the dark brown relates to the natural energies of the earth, helping translate ideas into physical reality. In meditation, tiger's eye works to focus and ground an individual if placed on the navel center, by the feet, or at the base of the torso, all of which work exceptionally well if the individual is feeling drained or unfocused. I used to get easily tired and distracted working on projects, so I decided to make a belt out of tiger's eye; that way, I could wear it when I was working and it would help me to stay focused and get my ideas onto paper. It worked, and I've been doing it ever since."

Jack took a deep breath and gave a sideways look to the warlord smirking at him in utmost pleasure. "Happy?" he demanded.

"For the moment, yes," Chase agreed. "I do so _love_ hearing my technology-minded consort talk spiritual to me." The man turned and began exiting his lover's laboratory, allowing the goth to get back to his work. "I'll be back in a few hours to hear you say it again," he informed.

Jack headdesked before calling after the warlord, "If you like hearing it so much, I'll make you a fucking recording!"

**_Turquoise-_**

Chase sighed in relief to see his home in view after a long day's hunt.

If he were being honest with himself, he _knew_ he was not a typical man, at least not for a man of the Apache tribe.

Oh, of course, he hunted and battled like the other men and excelled in such things, but there was one very large difference that set him apart from all his peers: he was unmarried, and at such an age when he _should_ have been married for four or five years now.

It wasn't as if there wasn't interest, as many families had tried to arrange a marriage of one of their daughters to him, offering beautiful and useful women that any other man would've snapped up in a second.

The lack of interest came from his end: he would've been expected to provide an extensive dowry to marry any woman, would have to abandon his own home to live with her and her family, and would be expected to do most of the hunting and physical work for them.

The typical Apache man was almost a _slave_ to his wife and his wife's family, and Chase wanted _no_ part of that, instead choosing life as a bachelor.

And then…Jack had come along.

It was truly the ideal situation: Jack was _male_ and was not subject to such demeaning marriage traditions, and even if he were _female,_ it still would not matter, for the white-skinned boy had joined the tribe as an orphan.

He had shown such great interest in the man and was lovely and engaging besides, so after some time, Chase had at last given in and allowed the youth to move in with him as his significant other.

Jack had, without complaint or prompting, taken up more feminine duties (for he had never been very skilled at masculine ones) around the older man's home, such as making clothing and tending the household as well as joining in the planting and harvesting with the women of the tribe.

They, of course, were delighted to have him: he wasn't possessed of an impressive physique for the tasks of hunting and combat, but for harvesting fruits and nuts, he was more than qualified.

He often bragged to Chase how manly it made him feel to be complimented and fawned over by women all day and then to be able to tell them the equivalent of, "Sorry, ladies, I'm taken."

Chase couldn't hold back a small chuckle at that. His husband was always so vivacious and fun in a stark contrast to his calm and serious behavior.

They truly _were_ a good match, together.

Stepping through the door of his abode, the man was expectedly pounced upon by the pale youth and kissed with an affectionate warmth he would never tire of.

Jack pulled away quickly, however, opting to fasten something about his husband's neck with excitement.

Surprised, the man glanced down to his neck and saw that it was now adorned by a string of hand-carved turquoise beads. This gift was a thoughtful one, indeed, as turquoise was said to improve one's skill when worn to a hunt.

This beautiful and well-crafted thing must have taken Jack _days_ to make…

Chase smiled at his lover, who gazed at him with hopeful eyes and silently pulled him close; cupping his jaw and kissing the boy affectionately.

Oh, yes, he thought to himself, this was _much_ better than being a slave…

**_Ruby-_**

Chase Young sat alone in a darkened room, pondering recent events.

Several weeks ago, a boy had appeared at the door of his citadel.

His name, he said, was Jack Spicer, and his parents had sent him here to help out with whatever he needed help with.

As the youth's story went, his family was rich and had recently decided to move to this 'godforsaken hellhole' of a town to 'see new things and meet new people.' Jack openly admitted he bitched about it for quite some time, liking his old home (where he had not been made to leave the basement) and _hating_ that his parents were forcing him to _talk_ to people against his wishes of remaining secluded; a desire Chase understood well.

His parents had not appreciated his bitching, it seemed. They'd heard from the townsfolk around their penthouse that the magnificent castle atop the hill overlooking the little village had been there for many years and that no one went anywhere near it because they believed the inhabitant to be a vampire.

They were perfectly correct, of course, but Mr. and Mrs. Spicer thought differently. They concluded that the inhabitant must simply be a poor, old man made lonely from his years of exclusion from the townsfolk and decided that _surely_ the old man would be having trouble getting around these days.

Jack's parents had decided their son would be the one to help this aged and forlorn man by doing odd jobs and keeping him company. They claimed that doing hard labor and caring for the elderly would teach him integrity and respect, and maybe _then_ he would appreciate the fact that they were completely ignoring his free will and showing no respect for _him_ by forcing him into things that actually _weren't_ for his own good.

"You don't look very old," Jack had explained, "but if I tried to tell mom and dad that you weren't a decrepit, lonely old man who _needed_ my help, they'd either call me a liar or come all the way up here to bother you themselves, and I _seriously_ doubt you'd want that. They're these…really perky…happy types of people that wouldn't _ever_ leave you alone once they've said 'hi' because they can't possibly understand a desire not to be bothered, which I can only assume you have by the location of this place and the fact that none of the villagers know what your face looks like."

"By that description," Chase had agreed, "I don't believe I want them here either. Perhaps I _could_ use you for something around here; if not, you could simply visit, I suppose."

And so it went for several weeks: every day, Jack would come over for an hour or two so as to fool his parents into thinking he was helping the 'old man' while he got the opportunity to escape them. More often than not, Chase _had_ no jobs for the Spicer-heir to do (there were no dishes to wash or beds to make, so the most he ever asked was light cleaning), so oftentimes, it ended up that the two of them simply sat together and talked.

As the time went by, the vampire found himself more and more fascinated with the mortal youth. He had quite the intellect if his talk of technology and robotics was any indication, and he certainly wasn't a bad conversationalist.

That did not mean he was attracted to the boy, no. Spicer was _human,_ and humans were _food,_ a source of nutrition and little more than livestock in his mind.

However, Chase _was_ attracted to the idea of Spicer as a vampire. It was a lovely thought: the gothic youth crouched over a drained human, ruby eyes glowering with the crazed bloodlust of a newly-made vampire as his red-stained lips drew back in a bestial snarl; baring his crimson fangs to any who might be looking…

Chase had hesitated to actually _turn_ the boy. By choice, he had never made any fledglings of his own and to start now on account of some little human (even one that would make a drop-dead sexy vampire)…well, it required some thought, first.

The very next time the albino visited him, he began a slow course of seduction, using his innate vampiric charms to make the mortal lust for him. Being remarkably handsome already, the task went _easily,_ and very soon, every last inch of the Spicer-heir _screamed_ for Chase's touch.

The bloodsucker chose to test the waters of this, first; see how he felt about Jack's attentions while the youth was still human _before_ he made the decision to become his sire.

To Chase's surprise…it wasn't horrible. Naturally, it felt to him as some sort of weird perversion as he kissed and rubbed at the goth without the intent to drain him dry, but it was…acceptable, he supposed, more than could be said of any other mortal he could have done this with. He had to force himself _much_ less to do it, he noticed, and Jack's growing affection for him was a good deal more favorable to that of any other human.

The warm, white skin felt nice upon his chilled flesh (which the albino did not seem to mind, oddly enough), the loving ruby-red eyes were somewhat pleasing to feel on him, and that _body_ the boy had…

It _almost_ made Chase forget that Jack was human; was little more than a meal to him.

So, the decision was made that somewhere down the line, the vampire would drain the goth of nearly all his blood and turn him. He wasn't sure just _when_ this would be happening, or under what circumstances, but it was now a certainty that it _would_ be happening.

The decision as to when and how were made for him when Jack showed up to the man's castle the next day with a dark purple bruise on his cheek.

Apparently, rumors had spread through the town about the young Spicer-heir; rumors describing him to have entered into a relationship of sin. The townsfolk, of course, had meant the perfectly correct assumption that Jack was fucking the resident vampire. When Mr. and Mrs. Spicer overhead the rumor of the 'relationship of sin,' however, they had once again jumped to conclusions and, believing Chase to be elderly and thinking there were no such thing as vampires, decided that their son must have been having sex with one of the men in the village.

When Jack had arrived home, his father accused him of it and the youth had truthfully denied it: he _wasn't_ having sex with anyone in the village, after all. Mr. Spicer called him a liar and _demanded_ to know the man's name.

Jack couldn't name Chase as his lover: that would've only made things worse with his parents' belief that Chase was an old man. Jack refused to give his lover's name, and that proved to be the final straw for Mr. Spicer.

He soundly punched his son in the face and then went on to punch and kick at the rest of the boy's delicate, albino body; screaming at him and calling him a faggot all the while. The man even went so far as to spit upon his son's trembling and bruised body when he was finished, and Jack's mother did no more than watch with a pitiless scowl.

The goth had come straight to Chase's citadel, of course, logically knowing it the only safe place to be (none of the villagers would take him in for knowledge of his ties to the vampire, and his family's penthouse was the _last_ place he should've been).

Chase had been beside himself with fury, naturally. Those…those _ignorant_ fools had dared to injure _his_ intended fledgling?! For an illegitimate reason, to boot?!

He had ordered Jack into a guest room with thick drapery over the windows and a soft, comfy bed to rest for awhile, telling him only that he would see this handled.

He invited Mr. and Mrs. Spicer up to his castle for dinner in gratitude of sending their son to help him. It wasn't entirely a false pretense: he _was_ grateful they'd encouraged Jack to come and there _would_ be dinner, of sorts…

The couple were surprised to find that the Mr. Young their son had been visiting daily for the past several weeks was perhaps only a few years older than said son and was _insanely_ handsome, as well, with his long, dark mane of hair and his sharp, golden eyes.

Of course, they were yet _more_ surprised to find themselves set upon and bitten, every last drop of blood drained out of their bodies for the crime of hurting his fledgling-to-be.

Then, the surprise was to change hands as Chase turned around, blood still staining his lips, and saw Jack standing there, garnet eyes wide with shock.

The vampire didn't try to deny anything: how could he, with the youth's parents dead on the ground and their blood on his mouth?

"I told you to remain in the guest room," he instead reminded.

"I did, for awhile," Jack had said, sounding dazed, "and then, I wanted to talk to you, and…" His voice trailed off, his gaze locked upon his parents bodies.

"Are you frightened, Spicer?" Chase wondered.

The redheaded youth thought about it for awhile. "…I'd be a fucking idiot if I wasn't," he said after a moment.

"Are you surprised, then?"

"I am, but I guess I really shouldn't be," Jack decided. "I mean…I never saw you leave the castle, and I've never seen you eat or drink or sleep in all the time I've known you… It should've been obvious."

Chase had smiled, a bloody, toothy thing that would've made any other human fall into a dead faint on the floor. "You _are_ a smart boy, Spicer."

Jack shivered and stared the vampire straight in the eyes. "Are you…are you gonna kill me, too…?"

"Yes," he'd admitted, "but not in the way you're thinking."

The goth swallowed hard, knowing immediately what had been meant by the statement.

"Go home," Chase had ordered. "Gather whatever belongings you want or need and come back as soon as you can."

To his surprise, Jack had nodded in agreement and turned to obey the demand.

"Aren't you upset by their deaths?" he'd called to the boy's back. "Aren't you terrified about the fact that when you return, you'll be returning to undeath?"

The young man turned around, a smile on his face. "Not really, actually," he'd said. "Mom and dad were assholes to me, even _before_ this whole thing, and…well, I guess I wouldn't mind being a bloodsucker so much if _you're_ the one that'll be teaching me how."

And with that. he'd turned on his heel again and left to collect his things.

Now, to the current moment, where Chase still sat in quiet contemplation of recent events.

Spicer, he eventually decided, would make an excellent vampire: young, beautiful, intelligent, and eager to learn.

This in mind, he stood and left the darkened room, heading to the front hall to wait for his soon-to-be fledgling to come home.

**_Carnelian-_**

"Okay, so…I just want to make sure of a couple things concerning what you just did to me."

"Ask away, fledgling," Chase allowed. "I will answer anything concerning your undeath that you need answered."

"Alright," Jack began, plopping himself into a plush armchair by the fireplace in his sire's citadel. "First off, if I go outside in daylight, will I sparkle?"

The elder vampire cocked an eyebrow. "No…" he slowly denied. "The moment any sunlight touches your skin, it will begin to burn. Your flesh will crackle, blacken, peel, and fall off in sheets as you burn alive. The only way to possibly survive the touch of the sun is if you get out of it _immediately._ Any longer than ten seconds worth of exposure, and you'll be quite soundly paralyzed, making you _unable_ to get out of the sun and allowing you to burn to death until you're nothing but ashes. Even _if_ you get out of the sun quickly, however, you'll be covered in third-degree burns wherever you were exposed, and you'll be bedridden for somewhere upwards of several weeks while you heal."

"Good," the goth chirped, eyes of carnelian glimmering in the firelight.

Chase idly wondered if _that_ weren't one of the reasons he'd turned the young Spicer-heir that had visited him so often: with those red eyes and that white skin, he already looked the stereotypical part of a bloodsucker.

Of course, as Chase knew and Jack was finding out, pale skin and red eyes did not necessarily a vampire make; in fact, in all his centuries of living, the Chinese man had never _once_ met a vampiric individual with red eyes. Pale skin, certainly, but that was only among those who had not made use of the somewhat new technology of tanning beds to force a bit of color into their technically-dead bodies.

"Next question," Jack continued, "could I survive on animal blood for any amount of time?"

"Oh, of course," the youth's sire allowed, "for about five minutes, maybe. Then, you would likely vomit it up because that's not what vampires are meant to feed upon."

"What _are_ we supposed to feed on?" the goth wondered.

"Humans, obviously," Chase scoffed matter-of-factly, "preferably innocent ones; people anywhere from those who are practically saints to those who simply haven't done anything too terribly wrong. We _are_ a soulless plague upon mankind, after all."

"Could I drain bad people, too?" Jack inquired.

"You _can,"_ his elder confirmed, "but I wouldn't recommend it. Murderers and rapists and such…their blood doesn't taste all that good. It's already tainted with sin and Evil and has quite the nasty aftertaste to it. Now, the blood of the innocent," he purred, licking his lips at simply the memory, _"that_ taste is a divine one. It is ingrained in vampires, you now included, to crave the pure blood of pure humans."

"Makes sense," the redhead nodded. "Thirdly, and this is a big one, will I have any urge to lurk eerily around seventeen-year-old girls, read their minds, and watch them sleep at night, but not because I'm hungry and stalking her for her blood but because I love her and want her to marry me and get knocked up with my spine-cracking kid?"

This question floored Chase completely, and he could do no more than inquire, "…what?"

"Okay, I'll go one at a time," Jack conceded. "Will I want to stalk teenage girls?"

This, the elder vampire could handle, and he confirmed, "Likely, yes. Around that age, girls are _usually_ virgins, forbidding rape at a young age, of course, making them perfect prey for our kind: virgin purity is the deepest kind of purity there is, and the blood of a virgin girl is _delectable._ In fact," he added, "I was hoping to see to it that the first victim you drain on your own is a virgin girl. It'll get the thought that the innocent are delicious into your head, and they're an easy first due to the innate sexuality that comes along with vampirism: it ought to be child's play to seduce yourself one."

"I've never seduced anyone before in my life," the man's fledgling protested.

"It'll come easy to you, now," Chase promised. "You won't even have to think about it. Your next question?"

"Can I read minds?"

"No," Chase flatly denied. "There are a few tricks that come with age, but really nothing beyond mild telekinesis and the ability to cloak yourself in shadow."

"Still pretty cool," Jack shrugged. "Could I ever fall in love with a human?"

"There's never been a case of something like that happening," his sire informed him, "but it doesn't much matter, as you won't _want_ to fall in love with a human. Soon enough, you won't even see them as people: in your mind, they'll just be a meal, and once that happens, falling in love with one will become an idea so disgusting as sticking your cock into a cheeseburger."

"Ew," the young vampire cringed.

"Precisely."

"Could I ever knock someone up?" Jack wondered.

"I don't know why you're even asking as if you'll be having sex with other people, Spicer: I intend to keep you all to myself, but no, you cannot, in fact, get a woman pregnant."

"A vampire chick, I get," the goth allowed, "she's been dead awhile, all her eggs have probably died, too, or if not that, then she's had as many periods as she can physically have and has no eggs left since they don't work like sperm and girls only get so many, but I mean…if I ever managed to get past the disgust and do a mortal chick, _just for the sake of argument,_ couldn't I knock her up? Her eggs would be fine."

"It wouldn't be _her_ eggs that are the issue," Chase contradicted, "it would be _your_ sperm. Vampires are simply in an odd state: not _quite_ dead, but not _quite_ alive, either. As it turns out, male vampires' bodies are still animated enough to produce sperm, but there is a catch and a reason we don't reproduce ourselves sexually: our sperm no longer carries genetic material."

"Ohhhh," Jack realized, "we shoot blanks."

"Essentially, yes; that is the case."

"Okay, then…" the youth hummed, "I think that's all I've got, so we're done!"

"Not quite," Chase denied. _"I_ have a question for _you,_ now, Spicer: where on Earth are all these odd questions coming from?"

"Oh, it's this stupid, totally shitty book about vampires that's somehow all the rage, now," Jack said. "It's misogynistic, stalkerish, and teaches girls _all_ the worst lessons like, 'just sit around and wait for your perfect man to come for you and sweep you off your feet,' 'if he breaks up with you, get depressed and suicidal, it'll make him come back to you,' 'if you don't want to do something, it won't matter because he'll just seduce you out of it,' and just a whole lot of other crap that…oh, hang on, I think I actually brought a copy: I wanted to show you how crappy it was, and then you kind of pounced on me and turned me and all…"

Chase watched curiously as his fledgling fished through his bag for a moment, plucking out a paperback with a picture of two hands holding an apple.

A sizzling noise ripped through the air the moment Jack's bare fingers made contact with the book and he released it immediately with a pained yelp.

"Holy crap," he muttered, taking his singed fingers into his mouth and staring aghast at the novel on the plush carpeted floor, "it fucking _burned_ me."

"That certainly is a new one," Chase chuckled, rising from his chair and walking over to stand above the book that'd been dropped upon the ground. "Vampire literature _so_ awful it actually has the power to _hurt_ real vampires."

Jack watched as his sire's booted foot deftly kicked the copy of _Twilight_ into the roaring fireplace.

"Good riddance," he snickered.

**_Obsidian-_**

"Hi, there!"

Chenglei frowned at the voice and glanced around him, only to become confused as he saw no one anywhere around.

"Down here," it spoke again, and this time the young warrior-in-training was able to pinpoint the source of it: one of the relatively-small craters beside him.

Within it, he saw what appeared to be a young man about his age, with fire-red hair and eyes and colorless skin. He was completely submerged in the steam-exuding substance filling up the craters and smiling brightly at the newest addition to the Xiaolin ranks as if nothing were wrong. To the contrary, there _was_ something wrong about such a thing…

Chenglei was not, in fact, at a hot spring of some sort and the steam-exuding substance filling up all the craters around here was not water. He was currently visiting the volcanic pits of Ka-Zaan, and the creature that smiled at him was bathing in red-hot, boiling _lava._

Naturally, the first thing he said to the male creature was a shocked, "What _are_ you?"

"Lava spirit," it answered immediately with an impish grin. "What the hell else would I be?"

"I…don't know," the teen admitted. "I figured it was better to ask than to assume and run the risk of offending you."

"Good call," it complimented. "I'm a pretty powerful spirit; you should've seen what I did to those bastards in Pompeii!"

Chenglei frowned. "Where is that?"

"It doesn't matter," the lava spirit shrugged. "My name's Huo!"

"Chenglei," the human introduced with a respectful bow.

" 'Become great,' " Huo grinned, showing off fanged teeth. "I bet you will. So, now that names are out of the way, what brings you to my neck of the woods?"

The teen felt uneasy talking with a powerful being, but was reassured by the smile and so sat beside the crater of lava. "I am a Xiaolin dragon-in-training," he said. "I showed no connection whatsoever with the other three elements, and only a slight one with fire. My master sent me here to meditate alongside the heat and flame and to develop a better understanding of the element; so that I may have a chance at one day controlling it through discipline and hard work."

Huo snorted. "Fuck that," he said, drifting backwards in his crater and allowing Chenglei room. "Get in here."

Brown eyes went wide. _"Wh…what?"_

"You heard me," the spirit replied, "come on in."

"I'm human!" Chenglei exclaimed, "I'll burn!"

"No, you won't," the redheaded creature promised, "just get in, and I'll help you out, alright?"

Chenglei was, naturally, wary of wading into a pool of _lava,_ but…the spirit had promised he would not burn and so ever so cautiously, he dipped a toe into the boiling hot substance.

He pulled it back immediately in his shock of not losing the toe and instead feeling the lava as simply warm and temperate.

Huo smirked at him. "I _told_ you," he said.

Reassured, the teen divested himself of his Xiaolin robes: the lava spirit had promised _him_ immunity from burning, not his clothing, and he would rather not have to trek back to the temple in the buff.

The creature smiled brightly as the young human stripped and waded into the magma, just as he'd told him to.

"Good," Huo smiled. "How do you feel?"

Despite the fact that he was not burning alive and the feeling of heat was overall moderate, the lava was thick and a bit gooey, very unlike water, and being submerged in it up to the neck… "Hot and stifled," he honestly answered.

The spirit snickered. "Don't worry, I'll take care of that," he said.

Chenglei watched with wary, chocolate eyes as the white-skinned lava spirit swam closer, pressing himself firmly up against the human's front.

"This won't hurt a bit," Huo promised cheerily.

Before the Xiaolin-in-training was entirely aware of what was happening, pale hands took hold of his head and forced him fully beneath the surface.

A burning sensation of _power_ exploded in the teen's chest in an instant, consuming his every nerve in flame. In the space of a second, Chenglei was one with every bit of fire in the universe: the magma in the earth, the tiny flicker of a candle, and the burn of the sun itself out in space.

All too soon and yet not soon enough, it was over, and the youth's head resurfaced with a deep, life-giving gasp of air. He felt exhausted and revitalized all at once, and, not sure which to express, simply floated there in Huo's grip, catching his breath.

Chenglei was entirely unaware that with the experience had come a physical change to him: his brown eyes had turned gold, betraying a strong inner-flame within.

"Well," Huo prompted with a smile, "test it out."

The human youth quirked an eyebrow in confusion.

"Your fire," the spirit clarified. "You should be able to tap into it, now."

Chenglei raised a hand from the lava and did as his master had instructed while trying to teach him to use an element (then having seemed a futile task).

Now, he _understood_ fire in a way that no other human did: it dwelled within his _soul._

A flame sparked upon his fingertips, growing into a fireball and shrinking back to a tiny flicker on his pinky at his will, and for a few moments, he manipulated it to his liking; exhilarated. "This is…amazing," he grinned brightly, his newly-gold eyes lit up by the flame he had made. "My master won't believe me when I tell him a lava spirit gifted me the ability to control fire!"

"Neither will you," Huo said cryptically.

Before Chenglei could question what _that_ was supposed to mean, the lava spirit invoked his power to send the youth into unconsciousness and Huo caught the boy as he went limp in the magma.

It was not often he found himself so interested in a mere human that he would actually show himself, much less gift him with an ability it would have taken him _months_ to learn on his own, and Huo did not want to give that up.

He wiped the Xiaolin dragon's memory of what had just transpired, replacing it instead with the fabricated recollection of meditation and training here by the volcanic pits of Ka-Zaan. He then dragged young Chenglei's unconscious form back to the edge of the crater, pushing him back up onto dry land and magicking his clothing back on.

This done, Huo looked to the necklace he wore; crafted of obsidian he himself had produced. His white fingers deftly broke off the pendant, a small carving of black flame, which he then placed upon the human's chest, just at his heart.

It was necessary: those of Good _never_ sought to immortalize themselves, and Huo refused to allow this Chenglei that so intrigued him to die of old age. He would have to make the boy Evil.

With just a bit of pressure applied, the pendant sunk into the human's chest, embedding itself in his heart. It was a small bit of blackness and it would be a good deal of time before it took full effect, but it was _fire,_ and it was in the nature of fire to spread and consume.

Soon enough, Chenglei's heart would be completely blackened with Huo's obsidian flame and he would seek out immortality with which to conquer the world.

The lava spirit smiled and pressed a kiss to the unconscious youth's mouth.

Pulling away, he noticed his fingers had been dusted black from his contact with the obsidian. Idly, he raised a finger to his face and painted lines beneath his eyes, curving an artistic hook beneath the left.

Pleased with the markings that would help him to remember this in the future, he smirked at the young human resting at the edge of his lava pit. "See you in a couple hundred years, Chenglei," he promised.

The lava spirit, Huo, dipped beneath the surface of the magma and did not resurface, the only sounds becoming that of steam, bubbling, and a lone human's breathing.

--

**A/N: __****Pearl** is a call-back to my concept of Mer-Chack from the fic, Rough Waters (continued in both a sequel and a prequel by the lovely Silvarbelle, :D).

**_Rose __Quartz_**is a call-back to the Mpreg Scenario from Genres of Chack (Family, Tragedy, and Angst).

For **_Sapphire_,** search 'Star of India' on Wikipedia; it's a short entry, and it'll tell you all you need to know. ;P

Obviously, the story in _**Ruby** _is continued in **_Carnelian_,** and of the latter, all I have to say is that I am not a Twilight-fan nor will I ever be. I personally think it's the type of book that actually COULD burn REAL vampires; ones that don't sparkle and feed on animals, then call it being a vegetarian vampire.

And finally, **_Obsidian_...** Well, _**Obsidian's**_ just my little take on what things would be like if there was more going on behind the scenes in the canon-XS universe than was let on. ^^

In any case, that'd be all there is of Gems of Chack, so thanks for reading and I hope you liked it! :D


End file.
